Drabbles
by x - Torchwood's Baby Blue - x
Summary: Just short stories that won't or I don't want to manifest into anything bigger. Some slash. Not by any means explicit. Mainly Sherlock and John. Just let you imagination wonder and make the what you like. Own nothing!
1. Managing To Claw Back

**First of my drabbles. A conversation between Sherlock on John the roof of building around sunset I imagine. It can be whichever way round you want it. Quite an open drabble, can be shaped into whatever the reader's imagination wants! Hope you enjoy! **

Managing To Claw Back

"Can you really imagine a life without all this?"

"No, not really. I tried to, but I could never quite manage to make it reality."

"Neither could I. The memories just clawed back." He smiled.

"I managed to as well." He smiled back.

"Yes. Yes you did."

"So, you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For managing to claw back."

"It was my pleasure."

The blacked-out shadow of the two figures rising from the roof of the building and walking hand in hand towards the steps could be seen from a few miles away. The on-looker smiled…

**So thank you for reading and please tell me what you think. TWBB xx **


	2. Birthday

**Seen as it is the fantastic Mr Benedict Cumberbatch's birthday, the 19****th**** July, I thought I might write a fic in 'honour' so to speak. God, he's 35 ;( Anyways, I thought it might be appropriate to do a birthday fic. So onwards. Hope you enjoy. **

Sherlock looked at the clock. 5…4…3…2…1… 19th July 2011. It wasn't the fact he was a year older. Or maybe it was. No, it was the fact he was a year older and alone. Again. He turned back to his laptop, well John's laptop.

"Happy Birthday, Sherlock Holmes," he said to himself as he shut down the laptop, placed it on the table and closed his eyes, lying back on the sofa. He could dwell on his loneliness in the morning. Well, later that morning.

**SH SH SH SH SH SH SH SH SH SH SH SH SH SH SH SH SH SH SH SH SH SH**

Sherlock woke to the sound of rustling. He turned on the sofa so he was facing into the room and groaned. Every time he woke up on the sofa with a neck ache he told himself it was the last time. He was so glad he listened to himself. As he opened his eyes he saw the figure of John tiptoeing out of the room.

"You know, you're a rubbish sneaker," he said, making John jump a mile.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you." He turned for the door. "Happy Birthday, Sherlock," he whispered, smiling slightly at the detective's flabbergasted face. How the hell did he find that out? Sherlock looked at the table in front of him as he swung his legs round off the sofa. All the usual stuff. Newspapers, magazines, bits of paper, a laptop, a card stuck to a box wrapped in 'happy birthday' wrapping paper, a rubix cube, a few pape… wait. What was the one before the rubix cube? Sherlock snapped his head back to look at it. He looked sideways at the door John has just exited through. He sighed a rolled his eyes. There was only one other person who knew when his birthday was, and who would tell John. He would kill _him _later.

"John," he shouted up the stairs.

"Yeah?" he shouted back down.

"Come here a minute. Please," he added after hearing John sigh. John softly padded down the stairs. He walked into the room, doing the buttons of his shirt up as he did so. He had a t-shit under his shirt as always. He never let _anyone _see his battle scars.

"Mm?" he asked as he did the last button up.

"What's this?" Sherlock asked, holding up the present and card.

"It's a birthday present and card…" John said, looking at the floor, somewhat in embarrassment.

"How did you find out it was my birthday?" he asked, even though he knew the answer already.

"You know how. And before you shout at him, I asked. He didn't just tell me. In fact, I had to practically beat it out of him," he replied, smiling.

"And why this?" He gestured to the card and present.

"He didn't just tell me when it was, he told me about your last six birthdays and what they were like."

"And just exactly what did he tell you?" he asked as he stood up and walked over to John. John looked up at him.

"They were pretty rubbish," he practically whispered. "Damn, I've got to go to work. See you later," he said as he grabbed his jacket and rushed to the stairs. "Stay out of trouble," he shouted over his shoulder.

"You know I won't," Sherlock called back down. He heard John laugh as he slammed to door shut.

He looked at the present again.

"I'll wait until he comes home," he said to himself as he made his way to the kitchen.

"Sherlock dear," Mrs Hudson called up the stairs, "you better not be doing any experiments up there. I've just cleaned up."

"Of course not, Mrs Hudson," he called back as he picked up a test tube…

_**SH SH SH SH SH SH SH SH SH SH SH SH SH SH SH SH SH SH SH SH SH SH **_

Sherlock heard the door slam. He put the pipette he was using down and roughly cleared up around him.

"Hello? Anyone in?"

"In here."

"Hi," John said as he threw his keys onto the table.

"How was your day?" Sherlock asked.

"Fine," John replied cautiously and frowned. Sherlock never asked how his day was.

"Problem?" he asked as he picked up a mug from the table and put it on the work surface.

"No, no. Not at all…" he trailed off when his attention was caught by the present on the table in the other room. He walked in a picked it up.

"You… errm… you haven't opened your present."

No, well I was waiting for you, wasn't I?" he said walking into the room too and flopping on the sofa.

"Oh right. I'll make us a cup of tea then you can open it, yeah?"

"Mm," Sherlock replied.

Five minutes later they were both sat on the sofa with a cup of tea and the box on Sherlock's lap. First he opened the card and read it. It said:

_**Sherlock, **_

_**Happy birthday. **_

_**Just because your other birthdays have been rubbish. **_

_**John x **_

The kiss at the end was something Sherlock would ponder over later. As he went to close the card, something fell out of it that he hadn't noticed before. It fluttered to the floor. John bent down to pick it up and handed it to Sherlock. He looked at it puzzled.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Read it."

Sherlock read the top. All it said was 'have fun'. He looked at John with a raised eyebrow.

"It's a hidden message," he explained.

"Yes, this I can see."

"Actually, it's a cipher."

"Yes, this I can also see."

"And your clue is that a Roman emperor will help you work it out."

"I'll look at it later," he said, putting it on the table and already going through a hundred possible ciphers per second in his head.

Sherlock then turned to the box. He ripped the paper off it to reveal a black box. He looked a John with some excitement in his eyes. He took the lid off and carefully pulled out the thing inside. A fob watch. A simple fob watch and chain. But the detailing on it was so precise and beautiful.

"Turn it over," John said. Sherlock flipped it over to find an engraving on the back. It read:

**To Sherlock**

_**Love always **_

_**Your blogger **_

_**One week later…**_

"Haha! Yes! John, John…? I've got it it's a Caesar shift cipher. John?" Apparently he wasn't in.

Sherlock then spent the next ten minutes deciphering the message. The original read:

**DSPCWZNV T HTWW YPGP WPLHP JZF. SZI NZWO T? LHO ELSE TD L ACZXTDP. SLAAJ MTCESOLJ. **

The translation was:

**Sherlock I will never leave you. How could I? And that is a promise. Happy Birthday. **

And this was how the seven-year conversation between Sherlock and John using a Caesar shift cipher started.

**The way a Caesar shift cipher works is you count 15 more letters on in the alphabet. The letter you stop at is the actual letter. For example A would be P and so on. Google it if you want to find out more. It is a cipher used on The Science of Deduction blog. Take a look at the hidden messages page. It's actually quite freaky! The answer to the third message is on the forum translated by 'theimprobableone'. So thanks for reading and please tell me what you think! Thanks TWBB xx**


	3. Some Days I Wonder

**Just another drabble. Johns thoughts on whether Sherlock would miss him if he left etc. Hope you enjoy. **

Some days, I wonder...  
>... what it would be like to have a 'normal' life, if I can use the term 'normal'. Some days, I can just imagine myself where I have always dreamed. But them some days I find it hard to imagine a life without all this. I have become used to the thought that I could die any second and only two people would miss me. I have become used to the rush of fear I get when I walk into a room with Moriarty in. And for some reason I can't stay away. And I look around now and I wonder, if I walked out of here right now, who would stop me? If I walked straight back into my old life as if nothing ever happened, who would question my absence. And if I were to disappear off the face of the earth, who would ask where I was? And looking again, I now know the answer. Sherlock Holmes would question, ask... and stop me.<p>Please tell me what you think. Thanks for reading. TWBB xx 


	4. It Wasn't Me Who Upset Her

I have wondered for a while now what Mycroft did to upset their mother. And I imagine that John might of as well. So he finally plucks up the courage to ask. This is how I thought the conversation might have gone. Sherlock/John slash. In relationship. NOT explicit. Hope you enjoy.

"... and you know how it always upset mummy."  
>"Me, upset her? It wasn't me who upset her, Mycroft."<p>

"By the way, I never asked. What did Mycroft do to upset your mother?"  
>"What?"<br>"On the second night, just after I shot that cabbie-"  
>"Yeah, thanks for that again by the way."<br>"Welcome. And he was there and you were talking about upsetting your mother. That's when I found out you were brothers. And you said it wasn't you who upset her. So what did Mycroft do?" John asked.  
>"Ah, long story, that is."<br>"I don't mind." Sherlock looked at him thoughtfully.  
>"You really want to know, don't you?" he said.<br>"Yeah, yeah. I do."  
>"When I was sixteen and Mycroft was twenty two, our parents had a massive row over us. Mummy always wanted to support me because apparently I would go on to bigger and better things and Mycroft wouldn't. Turns out it was the other way round. Anyway, after a few months my father couldn't take it any more. He had always hated me. Ever since I was born. It was because I became the favourite with mummy and he was second best. So he left. She always blamed Mycroft for pushing him away. But it was ok until they had a row about our father leaving. He said some horrible things to her. Things that hurt her a lot. She was distraught. Mycroft left. And that was it. Never seen my father again and I haven't seen my mother in, ooh, seventeen years."<br>"Wow."  
>"Yeah."<br>"Do you miss them?"  
>"Sometimes."<br>"Is that why you don't like Mycroft that much?"  
>"Partly, yes."<br>"I'm sorry," John said, getting up and sitting on the sofa next to Sherlock. He took his hand and rested his chin on his shoulder.  
>"When I left and she found out it was Mycroft in high places, she was even more annoyed."<br>"I can imagine."  
>"You still in touch with your parents?" Sherlock asked.<br>"Nah."  
>"Why not?"<br>"I joined the army, I told them I was bi. I supported Harry when she left. I did all the wrong things according to them."  
>"God, we don't do very well on the family front, do we!" Sherlock said laughing.<br>"No, we don't really."  
>"But I've got you. Who needs family when you've got John Watson?"<br>"Ditto."

Thanks for reading. Please review. TWBB xx


	5. Do You Really Want Me Dead?

"Hell of a place you chose to have… 'a little chat', I think your words were." Moriarty looked around him, taking in the scene.

"You know how I love to be dramatic," he concluded.

"Yes, that's the problem. Your love of being dramatic is costing lives." Moriarty shrugged.

"So?"

"You're even worse than me."

"Yep." Sherlock turned.

"This is a waste of my time." He started to walk off, leaving Jim Moriarty alone on the rooftop. Moriarty took another look around him. His eyes followed the London skyline around 360 degrees. The sun was just setting behind the metal giants, which soaked the air around him in a blood stained glow. He looked down at all the cars, buses, taxis and people rushing by bellow. All that life. _He _could put a stop to that.

"Don't you turn your back on me," he said, venom in his voice.

"Why not? If you don't have anything interesting to say, I have better things to do with my time." Sherlock carried on walking.

"_Don't _walk away from me." Sensing what Moriarty was about to do, Sherlock swung round, pulling a gun out of his back pocket and pointing the barrel directly at him, right between the eyes. Shocked by the closeness, Moriarty, who had half flung himself at Sherlock, stopped dead in his tracks. He laughed and narrowed his eyes at Sherlock.

"Come on then," he spat. "No snipers, no bombs, no exits, no way out. What are you waiting for? Do it. DO IT!" Sherlock's finger tightened on the trigger, but not all the way. He stopped, swearing silently at himself but not lowering the gun. He frowned and swallowed hard. Not like this.

"Do you really want me dead? Really? All those times you could have killed me. All those opportunities. And not one. You didn't take one. Because I'm the reason you live, you see. I'm the reason you can carry on. I may be your worst nightmare, but I'm your favourite dream too. I am the man who makes the worlds only consulting detective tick. If it wasn't for me, you would have killed yourself on drugs or from starvation by now. If it wasn't for me, you would not exist. So, Sherlock Holmes, which is it to be? Do you really want me dead… or alive…?"

**So what do you think? Random but just an image I had in my head and thought I would write. Please review. TWBB xx :) **


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